Barely Together
by LiKaTaSa
Summary: (Scriddler, T because I'm paranoid) I'm uploading some things for my friend "Mod" and compiling all of her Scriddler work into this. Please review! (Some of this is just work for the fandom, but most of it is Scriddler.)
1. Snapped

A/N: Hi, so my friend, let's call her Mod, has been writing these fantastic scriddler fics, and I asked if I could upload them for her, so hehe... here's the first one.

Please review and Woohoo!

* * *

"Go away."

"Jonathan, what's wrong?"

"Get _away _from me."

Jonathan felt Edward's arms circle his waist, he cheek pressed against the taller man's back. "Let me help."

"Don't touch me," he muttered halfheartedly, not bothering to try and push him off.

"Was it the crows again?"

Jonathan nodded, squeezing the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles were white.

"And was she in it?"

He nodded again, forcing his eyes shut. It wasn't dark enough. He needed the dark. It comforted him.

**_Coward._**

He opened his eyes with a gasp, shuddering slightly.

Eddie squeezed him tightly, pressing his lips against his neck gently. "Shh…" he murmured. "It's okay. It was just a dream."

"I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks," Jonathan croaked. "I've woken you up twice already."

"It doesn't matter."

**_Hate._**

"Yes, it does. You shouldn't have to—"

"Jon, it's okay. Really."

**_You hate him._**

He jerked away, out of Eddie's reach. He began to pace around the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Moving. I have to keep moving."

**_You want to hurt him._**

He cringed, clenching his fists.

**_Afraid?_**

"Jonathan, snap out of it."

He whirled around, snarling, "Why can't you just leave me alone you _bastard?_"

Eddie stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly.

**_He fears us._**

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the smaller man demanded, moving over to him.

Jonathan growled and lunged towards him, his hand closing around his throat. His vision was tinged with red. He was fear. He was evil.

He was _alive._

Eddie's eyes were wide as he fought for air. The terror painted so clearly over his perfect features… it was like a drug.

**_Good._**

"Are you gonna snap my neck?" he rasped, looking absolutely terrified. "'Cause if you are, do it now."

And with those few words, everything fell back into place. Jonathan released Edward's neck, letting him fall limply into his long arms. He stood there, paralyzed as the latter gasped into his shirt, shivering like a child.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, resting his chin on top of his messy orange hair. "I'm so sorry."


	2. Read to Me

"Let's see… nine across, device used to frighten birds…"

"Will you _shut up?_" Jonathan hissed from his bunk below the Prince of Puzzles. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Then sleep. I'm hardly making any noise." Eddie turned back to his crossword, scribbling in the answer with his pen—_not_ his favorite green one; mind you, but a dull black one belonging to the asylum. "Now… thirteen down, fear of spiders…"

"Arachnophobia. _Now go to sleep!_" Jonathan yelled, tossing a pillow at Eddie.

"I'm not tired."

"Do I sound like a care?"

"Of course you care," he grinned, leaning over the edge of the bunk. "It has to do with me."

"I hate you."

Eddie grinned wider. "No you don't. Come up here."

"What? No!"

"C'mon, please? You're so comfy."

"_No!_"

He pouted. "Fine." He threw off his thin blanket and clambered down the cold metal ladder. He squeezed in bed beside Jonathan, curling into a ball and latching onto his arm. "Hiiiii."

"Get off of me."

"You know you love me. You said so."

Jonathan grumbled, scowling. "Could we possibly _not_ talk about that?"

"Nope!" Eddie pressed closer, leaning his head on Jonathan's chest. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily."

"One can only hope," he muttered, begrudgingly curling a long arm around Edward's shoulders. "D'you have group tomorrow?"

"Mmhmm. Do you?"

"Yeah." They were silent for a bit, Eddie listening to the other man's slightly irregular heartbeat. He wasn't sure why, but that small quivering in between beats soothed him, even with his OCD. It used to worry him, but over time he grew accustomed to hearing it. It was The Flutter, _Jon's _Flutter.

"Jon?"

"Hm?"

"…Tell me a story?"

Jonathan was quiet, and Eddie worried that he'd laugh or call him a child. But he just rolled those pretty blue eyes and began to recite one of the Riddler's favorite works.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both…"


	3. Outburst

"Good morning everyone," Dr. Joan Leland said brightly, sitting in her usual place at the head of the circle.

"Good morning Doctor Leland," the group of criminals chorused from their various seats. Jonathan Crane, however, said nothing.

"So it's the last Friday of the month and you all know what that means."

The patients groaned. "Not the stupid wish circle," Pamela Isely muttered, flipping her wavy red hair indignantly.

"Now, now Miss Isely, what did we talk about?"

"Creating a positive environment for myself and everyone else around me," she recited, rolling her eyes.

"Very good. Now, who would like to go first?" She looked expectantly around the circle.

Harley raised her hand tentatively. "I think I'd like to start Doc."

"All right Harleen, what do you wish you had?"

Harley stared off into space. "Well, I wish I could see my Puddin' more often. They won't even put us in group together, it's just not fair!" she whined.

"Harleen, I've already explained why this isn't a possibility."

"I know," she mumbled dejectedly.

"Moving on. Pamela?"

"I wish I had a plant. Maybe a nice Venus Flytrap."

"Er, yes, lovely. Jervis?"

"I-I wish I had my Alice. Or maybe a nice Cheshire." The blonde Englishman slumped. "Oh, how I miss Alice…"

"Victor?"

"Nora," he murmured, bowing his blue tinted head. He didn't often come to group therapy, but when he did he rarely spoke.

"Edward?"

The ginger grinned, leaning forward in his seat. "Riddle me this. Turn and Twist, up and down. All you see in me is the pursuit of happiness. After many hours all you can do is frown. But one good move and you're in a groove. Luck is on your side; the turning of the tide. One more side to revolve and the puzzle is solved. What am I?"

Leland shook her head. "That's not an answer, Edward."

"Maybe you're just not smart enough to figure it out. Think about it, Doctor."

She scowled. "What about you Jonathan?"

"This is pointless," he muttered, glaring at her.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not like we're going to get any of this stuff, so why does it matter? This is just an illogical, time wasting exercise and I see no reason to tell _you_ anything." He crossed his arms defiantly.

"Jonathan, I thought we discussed this last week. You can't—"

"_Don't _tell me what I can and cannot do, _Doctor._" He was standing now, the circle of patients gaping at him.

Eddie frowned slightly. He was fairly sure he knew where this was going. "Jon, maybe you should—"

"You can't do anything to me!" he spat, his eyes cold. Eddie thought he could hear the hint of a southern accent. "It's not like solitary is any kind of _punishment_ to me. Anything is better than being around all of _you_."

"_Jon—"_

"I hope you fucking burn in hell," he snarled, his lip curling.

"That's it, _Guards!_"

Eddie stood up quickly. They wouldn't take him away, they _couldn't. _"W-wait! You can't just—"

"He was causing a disturbance, and we are obligated to restrict him to solitary confinement until he can behave like a functioning adult." Dr. Leland motioned for the orderlies to restrain Jonathan.

"B-but—"

"That is _enough, _Mr. Nygma. Please sit down."

Eddie did as he was told, watching anxiously as they towed his friend away.

Jonathan seemed to have calmed down slightly, but whirled around to glower at the psychiatrist. "And get Eddie a goddamn Rubik's cube!"


	4. A Kiss

"Jonathan, are you even listening to me?"

Jonathan sighed, looking up from the beaker he had been inspecting. "I'm trying to work Edward," he said wearily, glancing at the impatient man before him. "Is it really so important that it can't wait until I'm finished?"

"Of course it is, it has to do with me."

**_That pompous little—_**

"What is it?" he said, a bit too harshly.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his green eyes stern. "No need to snap."

**_Don't tell me what to do you arrogant bastard._**

Jonathan shrugged noncommittally. "Whatever. What were you saying?"

The red haired man stared at him curiously for a moment, before breaking out in a huge grin. "How about a riddle?" Without waiting for Jonathan to agree, he began. "I am of no use to one, yet absolute bliss to two. The small boy gets it for nothing. The young man has to lie for it. The old man has to buy it. The baby's right, the lover's privilege, the hypocrite's mask. To the young girl, faith; to the married woman, hope; to the old maid, charity. What am I?"

Jonathan had stopped paying attention a long time ago, but nodded absentmindedly all the same. He could see Edward gaping at him from the corner of his eye, and turned to look at him. "What?"

And suddenly they were… connected by the mouth. His icy blue eyes widened in shock as he felt the other man's fingers brush the back of his neck.

_What the hell?_

He hadn't been kissed in… a while to say the least. He'd never been interested in men— or women for that matter. People were never of much interest to him. And _Eddie _was certainly notat the front of his mind_. _Eddie was just… what was he? A friend? He didn't have friends. He didn't need them. He had more important things to do than—

All coherent thought left Jonathan as he felt a hand press against his chest, gripping his shirt tightly. He felt dizzy, disoriented.

He felt something push against his lips and into his mouth and one word became very clear to him.

**_No._**

He pushed the ginger-haired man away from him, stumbling backwards a bit. "What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" he spat, wiping roughly at his mouth.

Edward stared at him, looking hurt. "You… you said yes."

"_What?_"

"To the riddle. You said yes to the riddle."

"So? That has nothing to do with…" he trailed off, remembering the words of the riddle.

Oh. It was a kiss. He had unknowingly invited Eddie to kiss him.

Damn. He was smart.


	5. Question

"Hey, Jonathan?"

"Hm?" he murmured, glancing up from his book.

"Do you think I'm smart?" inquired Eddie, tapping his chin lightly.

"I suppose you're of above average intelligence, yes."

"Do you like me because I'm smart?" he pressed, batting his eyes.

Jonathan sighed. "To a certain degree, but does it matter?"

Edward's shoulders drooped. "You're hopeless."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the brunette asked, turning a page.

"You just don't pay any attention to me," he whined, pouting a little.

"Don't be stupid, how could I not pay attention to you? You won't let me."

"I wish you'd… _emote_ more though. You never say what you're feeling."

"Emotions are frivolous. They cloud your judgment, and I feel that they are a waste of energy." Jonathan stared pointedly at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Oh for the love of— you seriously never feel anything? Ever?" Eddie frowned skeptically at him.

"Whether I do or not, I don't let it affect my choices."

"What about _me_?" he pried.

"What _about _you?"

"What do you feel towards me?"

Jonathan's ears turned that special shade of scarlet. He knew there was no right answer to that question, at least none he was willing to give. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"Why shouldn't we? I think it's important."

"Well _I _don't." He closed the book, dropping it on his desk with a thud. Eddie followed after him like a stray puppy.

"Do you like me Jonathan?"

"I already said I did," he replied, growing slightly irritated. Scarecrow stirred in the corner of his mind, but stayed silent.

"Do you _love _me?"

"_What_?" he asked sharply, the word coming out more coarsely than he'd intended.

"I asked if you loved me. It's a simple enough question, Jon. A man of your intellect should be able to answer it fairly easily. So, do you?"

"Wh—_no!_" he snapped immediately, the words leaving him before he could retract the statement.

Edward just stared at him, his green eyes widening in disbelief.

_Oh no. Oh shit._

"I-I didn't mean—"

And that was when he smacked Jonathan harshly across the face.

"You… you _bastard_!" he cried, shoving him.

Jonathan stumbled backwards, his cheek stinging. _A little help here? _he thought frantically.

**_You said it, not me._**

_Fuck you._

"God, you always do this! I don't know what I see in you! You're a selfish asshole who doesn't give a second thought to anything that doesn't immediately concern

you!"

"Eddie—"

"Shut up!" he yelled, pounding his fists against Jonathan's chest. "You fucking jackass, I wish I'd never met you!"

"Will you _calmthefuckdown_?" he shouted, catching the redhead's wrists in his hands. "I'm sorry, alright?"

"_No! _Sorry isn't good enough! You can't just do something like this and then say sorry and expect it to be all better!"

"Well what do you want from me? You want me to 'emote'?" he spat, glaring down at the other man.

"_Yes!"_

"_Fine! _I fucking love you, are you happy now?" He inhaled sharply. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I didn't think—"

"Damn right you didn't," Eddie muttered, snatching his arms away. "You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Ed..."

"No exceptions. I don't care what you do to try and win me back, it won't work."

"Sure it won't." He pressed his lips to Eddie's jawline.

"I'm serious! I'm still mad at you." Despite his words, Eddie didn't try to move away, but crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Hm. What if I watch _Titanic_with you?"


	6. My Knight

"Ed, get these damn trophies out of here!"

Eddie poked his head into the laboratory. "And put them where exactly?"

"I don't care! You said they'd be gone yesterday, and I'm sick of them cluttering my lab."

"Well, maybe if you helped me hide them…"

"And maybe if you hadn't gotten _two-hundred and eighty-one_, I wouldn't need to!" Jonathan clenched his fists as if he was going to punch Eddie in the face… which he very well might. Eddie wouldn't put it past him. And of course with Scarecrow behind the scenes…

"Okay, okay, I'll move them," he promised, holding up his hands in surrender. "Of course if you _helped _me…"

"_Eddie!"_

"Okay!"

"Aaand… that's the last one. God, what was I _thinking?_" he muttered, twirling his quiz cane absently_._

_Jon was right, as usual. I hate him; with those big blue eyes and that stupid smirk… it _is_ cute though… _he's_ cute… NO. No, brain, don't go there… Puppies and quiz canes and trophies and… and dead Batmen bleeding in the streets, with little Robins floating around his head, all while you take over Gotham and—_

"Nygma," came the gravelly voice he knew all too well, shaking him out of his thoughts.

He twirled around, grinning slightly. "Why, if it isn't the Batman! It's been far too long. I suppose you're looking for my trophies."

"Where are the hostages?" he growled.

"Oh, do you _really _think I would tell you that, after I went to all the trouble to hide those clues? No, I'm afraid you'll have to find them first."

The Dark Knight lashed out, hitting the Riddler in the side of his skull. Everything went a bit fuzzy, but he shook it off, dodging the next blow.

"You'll have to do better than that, Batsy," he laughed, ducking out of the way.

_I can't keep dodging forever, _he thought, continuing to avoid and evade. He wasn't a strong fighter. He was more known for being smart, as his title- 'Prince of Puzzles'- dictated.

Batman had spun around, propelling himself off of a wall and towards his opponent, kicking out towards Edward's stomach. Caught off guard, Eddie didn't have time to maneuver away and slammed into the ground.

The Bat yanked him up by his jacket collar, his face dangerously close. "Where are they?" he screamed gutturally.

"Behind you," someone answered from the shadows. Batman turned to face the speaker but was met with a cloud of fear toxin. He proceeded to drop Eddie in his artificial panic, whirling around in circles to fend off his imaginary attackers.

"Jon?" Eddie croaked; his vision was blurred but he could make out a tall, thin figure standing before him.

He felt a hand close around his, pulling him up. "Let's get out of here. The hallucinations won't last forever."

Eddie ran surprisingly quickly despite his injuries. They ducked into an alley, the Riddler slumping against the wall.

"How'd you know where I was?" he panted, his side aching from the fall.

"I didn't. I was on the roof; I could see you getting your ass kicked." He pulled the burlap mask off his head, scowling at his friend. "Did it never occur to you to, oh I dunno, _throw a punch?_"

"I don't fight. _I'm _the brain, _you're _the brawn."

"No, you're the brain, I'm also the brain. The difference is _I _always have to come save you."

"I guess you're just my knight in shining armor," Eddie mumbled.

"I'm sorry, _what _did you just call me?" the Scarecrow asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing."


	7. Overthinking

Jonathan rolled over uncomfortably, staring up at the ceiling above the bed. The bed he was currently sharing with Edward Nygma, who was snoring quietly beside him. He sighed, sitting up. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. One thirty-five. It was too early for him to get up and risk waking Eddie, but he knew there was no point in trying to go to sleep.

He drummed his long fingers on his knee, wondering what he should do, if anything. Then, something occurred to him.

_Does this mean I'm gay?_

He'd never really thought about it before. He'd always just assumed he was straight. Looking back however, he realized he'd never been very interested in girls. Except for Becky… but she probably wasn't the best example.

Jonathan looked over at his sleeping companion, a blush spreading across his pale cheeks. He wasn't exactly… in his element to say the least. He was more used to being alone; he even preferred it to some extent. But Eddie…

_No. _He would not get close to him. He couldn't.

**_Not if I have anything to do with it, _**his voice hissed, bubbling to the surface.

He looked around, his gaze landing on the pile of discarded clothes. He began to sift through them, picking out what was his and putting it on, quietly as he could.

"Jon."

**_Shit._**

He stopped, about halfway through buttoning his shirt. Eddie had turned to face him, the blankets clutched tightly in his hands.

"I woke you up," he mumbled, not wanting to look at him.

"S'okay. Can you hand me my stuff?"

Jonathan tossed him his belongings, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and continuing to fumble with the buttons. He could hear the rustling of the green cloth from behind him. He ran a hand through his short hair, bowing his head slightly.

He felt two arms loop themselves around his waist, followed by a pair of lips on the nape of his neck. "Mm. You're brooding. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." He shifted nervously, putting distance between them.

Eddie looked up, puzzled. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine._"

"Jon, I can tell when you lie. What's going on?"

"I'm not like you, Ed!" he blurted angrily. He clapped a hand over his mouth quickly, cursing himself for saying that.

"_What_?" he asked.

"I… I'm not…"

The meaning of his statement dawned on Eddie. "Oh. You mean you're not a _queer, _huh? You're straight as a pole, is that it?" His words were dripping with a mix of malice and bitter disappointment.

"That's not what I—"

"No, it's _fine. _I totally get it." He stood up angrily, marching indignantly out of the room. Jonathan followed after him, not sure how he was going to work his way out of this one.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just don't think—"

"Why'd you fuck me then?" He whirled around, glaring at Jonathan. "If you're _completely _straight, and you don't like me, _why'd you fucking sleep with me_?"

"Eddie—"

"You can go die in a hole, you son of a bitch. What was that, some social experiment? 'Let me see if I can make the Prince of Puzzles like me and then break his fucking heart'? You bastard. You _bastard, _I can't believe—"

Jonathan cut him off, pressing his mouth firmly against his. Edward froze, seemingly shocked by the sudden display of affection, but soon relaxed against him. He laced his fingers in the taller man's short hair, pulling him closer. It wasn't a special kiss; there was no inner meaning or ulterior motive. However, it was enough to get the point across.

Jonathan pulled back, tilting his head to the side slightly. "Are you happy now?"

"Hm. I might be if you read to me," he murmured, nuzzling up against the Master of Fear.

"Not happening."

"Pleeeeeeease?" he whined, batting his long lashes.

He rolled his brilliant blue eyes. "Fine. Pick a book."

"Yay!" He grinned gleefully, flouncing back towards his bedroom.

Jonathan shook his head, chuckling slightly. "You are such a child sometimes…"


	8. Silence

Jonathan awoke with a start, bolting upright in bed. He was breathing heavily, his cold eyes wide. He looked towards Eddie who was curled up on his side. He lay back, gradually letting his eyelids fall closed. The nightmares hadn't been as bad this time. They didn't seem nearly as real as before, and that awful feeling of despair hadn't been as present. He felt calmer than before, almost peaceful. That was when he noticed it.

_Silence._

Complete and utter silence.

But he could hear things. He could hear Edward's steady breathing, the wind rustling in the tree leaves outside, the pounding of his own heart. He could hear _noise_. Not sound, noise. He couldn't register any _sound_. The familiar prickle in the back of his consciousness was gone. The occasional dark whisper had vanished completely. He was alone with his thoughts, his _own_ thoughts.

He felt empty.

And he knew what had happened.

"No…" he practically whimpered, his eyes flying open. "No, no, _oh no_." He sat up again, placing his head in his hands

Eddie stirred beside him and Jonathan could faintly tell that his emerald eyes were open, still clouded with sleep. "Jon?"

"It's gone," he said dully from between his fingers. _"He's_ gone."

"Who is?"

He looked at Eddie, his cerulean eyes stinging. "Scarecrow," he said thickly. His throat tightened and he fought back the urge to sob. He would not cry. He was not weak.

"Oh, Jon… c'mere." He wrapped his arms tightly around Jonathan, resting his head on his shoulder. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I thought it was… God, it's so damn _quiet_!" he said, shuddering. He pressed his face into the curve of Edward's neck, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He felt Eddie's lips press gently against his ear.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. I'm here," he murmured, tracing circles lightly on his shoulder blades.

"I hated him. I _hated_ him, but he was mine. He gave me power. Without that I'm just—"

"That… that _thing_ wasn't good for you Jon. And you don't really need—"

"You don't get it Ed," he muttered, raising his head to glare into twin pools of green. "That '_thing_' was me. My strength, my control, my _omnipotence_. It made me strong, and I needed that." He frowned to himself. This was usually where Scarecrow would interject with some kind of biting comment, maybe a veiled threat of some kind. Instead he was met with only silence. That _awful, empty silence_! "Damn it!" he hissed. "How do you live like this?"

Eddie exhaled sharply, the effect sounding almost like a harsh laugh. "I could've asked you the same thing." He gazed up at Jonathan, his freckled face etched with worry. "He might come back. Maybe it's only temporary."

"No," he said listlessly. "He's not coming back."

"How can you be sure?"

His lip curled slightly. "You'd know too, if you were in my position. Believe me, he's gone. Forever." Jonathan broke away from Edward, slumping wearily against his pillow. "You just witnessed the day I died."


	9. Scars

_"Scars are stories, history written on the body."_

_-Unknown_

Eddie knew better than to ask about the scars. He'd worked out what some of them were from on his own—he _was _a genius after all. He'd tried to bring it up a few times, but Jonathan always either ignored him or gave him a look that clearly said, "_Leave it."_

So he gave up. He never inquired, though that was what he did best. He wanted to _know _things, and the fact that he couldn't bring Jonathan to give up the information bothered him.

The scars varied, some puffy red welts, others merely faded white scratches. There were several scattered over his back, mostly from his awful Grandmother. He'd never exactly told Edward the stories, but he knew.

There were a few scrapes and claw marks on the side of his neck and shoulder, presumably from his most recent run-in with Catwoman. They were fairly new, but had begun to scab over already.

There was a pink-ish wound stretching across his abdomen. It was mostly healed by now but it looked as if it had been a deep gash at one point. Eddie wasn't quite sure where that one had come from, but he could tell that it had been made with a larger blade, something more destructive than your everyday kitchen knife.

He'd be lying if he claimed that they didn't bother him. All those… _flaws. _Imperfections always made him feel uneasy. They didn't _disgust _him, but he wasn't exactly comfortable with the scars.

Especially the ones running up and down his forearms.

But he'd never voice his concerns. He knew that they wouldn't be welcome, so he kept his mouth shut. Difficult as it was, he didn't want to risk losing what little trust Jonathan had bestowed upon him. His intentions were good, but he got the feeling that it wouldn't matter one way or another. Jonathan was too stubborn to let him help. With _anything._

It hurt. Knowing that he couldn't do anything. That was his main problem, the feeling of _uselessness_. Edward Nygma was _not _useless. And he was not very good at staying idle. He needed to do something, to _be _something.

The only thing he could really offer was subtle reassurance. Just a tiny flicker of compassion, small enough that Jonathan wouldn't get mad or defensive. Simple things; tending to a wound he couldn't reach, cleaning bloodstained clothing, occasionally sneaking painkillers into various meals. He had the feeling that Jonathan could tell what he was doing but allowed it all the same. Perhaps it was for the sake of Eddie's own sanity, or perhaps he really _did _want someone to care for him.

Either way, Edward was temporarily satisfied. It was the best he could do for the moment.


	10. Lies

"_Everybody lies."_

_-House_

The therapy was pointless. It wasn't as if anyone actually _recovered. _All it took was the simple turn of a phrase and they thought you were back to being a functioning human being.

Harley said she'd leave _him_.

Jervis claimed he didn't need Alice.

Even Edward—who felt he didn't even need to lie, seeing as he was _so_ intelligent—had managed to convince the psychiatrists that he was getting better, that his various complexes and obsessions were gone.

It disgusted Jonathan to see what this place had come to.

The cells quickly filled and emptied, patients coming and going practically every week. The doctors came and went as well, driven away by the extreme _insanity _of it all. Prescriptions were written and rewritten, the pills often being hidden under mattresses, in jumpsuits, even in the padded squares on the walls—which, if hollowed out, made excellent hiding places.

But Dr. Arkham was determined. He, of course, didn't want to be seen as an idiot who couldn't even run his own asylum. So, when asked about the numerous escapes and false diagnosis's he just smiled and said that they were working on it and expected everything to be back to normal in no time.

Well, time passed.

Nothing changed. The Doctors _thought _they were making progress, eventually deciding to let their patients loose on the city. Sure, some of them did alright.

But only for a while. After time, they'd start slipping back into their old patterns, starting out with smaller heists, simple things. Petty thefts that didn't seem to have any connection. But they all amounted to one big _scheme. _Something that would, inevitably, land them back in the asylum.

And then it started all

over

again.


	11. Cancer

_"Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory."_

_-Dr Seuss._

He'd been an _idiot_. He should have tried harder, _worked _harder. He could've _helped _him.

But it was too late.

He'd first noticed about a month ago. Edward had stumbled into his room looking particularly weary. Jonathan had asked what was wrong but he hadn't replied, instead curling up in a ball on Jonathan's bed. That was when he began to take note of his friend's appearance. His skin was pale, paler than usual. His usually vibrant green eyes were dull and sunken. He also appeared to have lost weight, not a lot but enough thatJonathan could tell.

A few days later, Eddie told him.

Cancer. A brain tumor to be exact. It was almost painfully ironic, what with Eddie's brain being his most _prized _attribute.

He'd cried, not openly of course. He wasn't about to break down in front of Eddie. Eddie, however, didn't. Eddie, who cried over the most insignificant things, did not shed a single tear at the possibility of losing his own life. He'd just languished around the warehouse, rarely speaking or doing much of anything. He'd watched Jon listlessly as he wrote different formulas and equations, mixed all manners of chemicals and additives; he'd done everything within his power to try and cure his friend.

In the meantime, Eddie had refused any conventional treatments. Chemotherapy was out of the question in his eyes, and honestly Jonathan couldn't blame him. It was more than he could take, than anyone should _have to_ take.

Jonathan's research seemed to be useless; he hadn't found anything remotely helpful. He'd asked Victor, Pamela, even Harley. Even with their combined medical knowledge they couldn't find anything that he could work with.

And Edward got worse. He slept more, and during his few waking hours he'd keep to himself, only rarely seeking comfort from Jonathan. He'd be lying if he said it hadn't frightened him. Eddie hated being alone, but that seemed to be _all_ he wanted to do.

It was like that for about three weeks. Jonathan lost countless hours of sleep worrying over his notes, but he couldn't care less. He just wanted Eddie to get better.

But people rarely get what they wish for.

* * *

A/N: ...Leave a review if this one made you at _least_ little teary-eyed.


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